Nothing Fails
by SpankyButtons
Summary: In a world of quiet chaos, not everyone can live... no matter how hard Harry tries to save them. But in his battle for ambition, he learns to gain hope, to believe that nothing fails. And to care again... with Ginny by his side.
1. Rescued

Nothing Fails

Year Six

"Right on time! Harry, dear, are you all right?"

Harry looked up to see Mrs. Weasley lending a hand to help him up. Harry got quickly to his feet, not wanting to appear injured in case Mrs. Weasley fussed.

"I'm fine," he answered her. 

He was in the kitchen and it looked as gloomy as ever. There were still dark pots and pans dangling from the ceiling and the dying embers of a fire were glowing at the other end of the room. Harry's knees ached from their collision with the floor, but he ignored the pain. He hadn't realize that when Mrs. Figg said 'headquarters' he would end up here. He looked around. It seemed Mrs. Figg didn't come with him. 

"Why isn't Mrs. Figg coming?" asked Harry.

"She's got to stay at her own house, in case your relatives drop by," Mrs. Weasley said, peering closely at him, "she convinced them to go out tonight and promised us they'd be gone a long while... are you sure that you're all right, dear?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly, wanting to believe it, "where is everyone?"

"The drawing room. It's much less... _dreary_ in there, now that we've cleaned it up," she said as she took a gentle hold on his shoulder, steering him through the kitchen door and up the stairs.

"Remember to keep your voice down..." she whispered.

As they passed Mrs. Black's veiled portrait, Harry felt sick. He shut his eyes briefly. _Don't think about it, not now_, he thought furiously.

The drawing room was dark and quiet when they arrived. Harry squinted in to the inky black of the room, seeing nothing, then turned to Mrs. Weasley.

"What-"

Several loud bangs and shouts echoed from around the room and, for a moment, Harry found himself engulfed in sudden bright light and people laughing and patting him on the back. He blinked dazedly in front of him and found himself looking into the cheerful eyes of Fred Weasley.

"Ha! You should have seen your face! Bill, did you get a picture?" Fred said as he grinned over at his long-haired brother, who was standing by a table laden with sweets.

Bill jauntily held up a camera. "First one of the evening," he announced.

Harry looked around, still feeling confused. It was a small group, most of the guests Harry knew to be in the Order. They were all either smiling or grinning, their eyes intent upon him. Oddly shaped balloons drifted across the ceiling and bits of confetti and sparks rained down upon him. Above their heads, a large, glittering banner declared "Happy Early Birthday Harry!" in curly purple print. Harry's stomach fluttered madly. A birthday party...

"Is it good? It took us most of the evening."

Tonks was standing very near to him, with her hair in bubble-gum pink dreadlocks. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were standing with her, all grinning goofily at him.

"Its..." Harry wasn't sure what to say. He'd never had a birthday party before, the Dursleys certainly wouldn't have put up with one. He'd always ended up jealously watching Dudley tear open presents (that would be broken a day later) or otherwise sit alone in his cupboard. "It's wonderful," he spoke finally.

"We thought you'd like it. The Dursleys never had parties, did they?" Ron asked, scooping up three butterbeers and tossing one to Harry and Hermione. 

Harry shook his head, watching the crowd. He could see Kingsley Shacklebolt talking animatedly with Dedalus Diggle, and on the other side of them was Remus Lupin. Lupin caught his eye and nodded to him. Harry gave a small smile back.

Maybe fifteen minutes later, most of the other guests had stopped staring at Harry and asking him how he was, either so they could get their drinks, or nibble at the sweets. Harry saw Mundungus Fletcher pouring an amber liquid out of his silver flask and into his bottle of butterbeer.

"There's presents, too," Ginny said, pointing to a table in the corner, which was piled very high with gifts, "at least half of us bought one. Though, I get the feeling 'Dung's gift to you might be a bit dodgy. He pulled it out of his pocket five minutes before the party, then went around asking people for paper and tape to wrap it with."

"You didn't have to-" Harry started.

Ginny looked at him. "Of course we did. You deserve it," she said firmly. 

Something in her eyes made Harry want to look away, but he was soon saved by Lupin, who had come over to wish him a happy birthday.

"How are you?" Lupin asked in an undertone.

"Good." Harry said shortly, choosing not to meet the werewolf's eyes. He was starting to feel slightly out of place again, but he shook it off and sat down at the end of the table. 

"Oh, Harry! We forgot to tell you! Guess who might be coming?" Hermione said excitedly, taking a seat across from him.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"Dumbledore!" Hermione and Ginny said in unison, looking over his shoulder. 

Harry leaned forward, suddenly forgetting his feeling of depression. "Really? Dumbledore? Why couldn't he come earlier?"

"Because he had a very important meeting with a couple of goblins, but I assure you, he wouldn't miss this party for the world," said a half amused, half serious voice in Harry's ear, causing him to jump in his seat.

Albus Dumbledore was standing behind him, in magnificent robes of blue-green. In his hand he was holding a small, square, shimmery package, which he set carefully on the table overflowing with other colorful gifts. The crowd in the room all seemed very surprised at Dumbledore's arrival, but they greeted him none the less.

"Albus! Honestly, most of us didn't think you would make it... but you did, and astounded us all," Tonks said cheerfully, grinning at the old professor. Mrs. Weasley gave her a half wild look as though trying to communicate to her to be more polite to the headmaster.

Dumbledore smiled, however. "It was good chance I wouldn't have made it! Ragnok insisted we go through every term tonight..." For a small moment his expression was closed and pensive, but soft smile made it disappear. He turned to Harry and said, "I see you made the journey safely. The Dursleys have been treating you well, I trust?"

"Er- they were okay. Better than usual, actually," Harry answered back. He noticed that most of the people at the party had taken seats around Harry, talking quietly. Tonks and Hermione were clearing space on the table and setting down some of Harry's gifts. 

Dumbledore nodded and looked suddenly interested in a bowl of sherbet lemons. Harry watched Tonks and Hermione piling presents onto the table, and his stomach twisted. He'd never done this before... 

"So, Harry. Pudding or presents?" Mrs. Weasley asked happily, smiling at him.

Everyone turned to look at him. Harry's stomach tightened uncomfortably, and he suddenly wished he were alone in his room, back at Privet Drive... anywhere away from everyone's searching eyes. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and said, in a voice not his own, "Erm.. presents, I suppose." 

Fred and George whooped and clapped. "Well, done, Harry! You really _are_ a Weasley!" 

Harry grinned, automatically feeling at ease again. He could feel the beginnings of embarrassment and something that might have been shame overtake him, and he shook his head lightly. He knew perfectly well why he'd been feeling like hiding lately. It was because of Sirius ... but if he was going to have a good early-birthday party, he really should try to keep his thoughts away from Sirius's death... for one night at least. 

Harry looked at the great pile of gifts now tottering in front of him and he stuck out a tentative hand, wondering which one he ought to choose. But before he could make a decision, Tonks had scooped up her gift to him, a flat, purple-spotted package, and pushed it into his hand. 

"I think that Ron might enjoy this present a little more than you will," Tonks whispered audibly, winking at him. Everyone looked on interestedly as Harry pulled the paper from the package, wondering what Ron was going to like about it.

Inside was a very orange calendar and every month had a moving picture of the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favorite team, above it. Ron's eyes gleamed as Harry passed it to him.

"It charmed," Tonks continued, now picking up the purple-spotted wrapping paper and dropping it on Crookshanks's head, "it will remember dates and such. You know, Quidditch games... your girlfriend's birthday..." 

"I haven't got a girlfriend!" Harry said defiantly. Ron had suddenly dropped the calendar back on the table, looking embarrassed. 

"I know you haven't," Tonks argued, "all I'm saying is... you _might_, in thenear future," she winked suggestively at Ginny, who looked at Harry, and they both shrugged.

Harry set clumsily to work on his other presents, while Bill took continuous pictures. Mundungus Fletcher gave him gold cuff links, though Harry wasn't sure he trusted their source, knowing Mundungus's background. He also received a Foe Glass from Kingsley Shacklebolt, a set of solid silver gobstones from Dedalus Diggle, from Fred and George a certificate for five free items at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes (much to Mrs. Weasley's displeasure). Mr. and Mrs. Weasley got him a new pair of dress robes, green, (You've gotten so tall since the last ball, dear!"). Hermione got him a pocket watch that was very much like the Weasley's grandfather clock, only it told him when assignments were due, a large bag of his favorite sweets and Zonko's products from Ron, and set of _Tibilius's Encyclopedias for Defense Against the Dark Arts_ from Lupin.

"I imagine they'll come in handy," Lupin told him pleasantly, "that is, if Dumbledore allows you to..."

Dumbledore chuckled lightly. "Remus, I don't think it would make the slightest difference if I told him to discontinue practice with the defense group. He'd do it anyway."

Harry grinned slightly. He was very pleased with Lupin's gift. He was almost itching to go off in some corner and start writing lesson plans. Sighing slightly at the thought of having to do it later, Harry looked around the table, realizing there were still a few gifts left.

Ginny, who'd been watching Harry search the table, picked up her gift and handed it to him, looking slightly nervous.

Harry removed the wrappings and a small, bottle-green sphere fell into his hand. It glowed faintly and as Harry gripped it, he felt more at ease than he had all summer.

"What is it?" Harry murmured, gripped the sphere more tightly. It was so smooth and warm... Harry's eyelids felt comfortably heavy and he sank lower into his chair.

"It's... well it's actually for smaller children, but I added some charms so it would be stronger... it's an Ameliorate," she mumbled, looking embarrassed, "it relieves stress, it's supposed to make you feel... better, if you're sad..."

Harry smiled at her, feeling peaceful. "Thanks, Ginny." 

"Your welcome." Ginny said, not meeting his eyes and looking at her hands. 

Harry was starting to feel very tired and he slumped lower in his seat. Before he could fall into his food, however, Lupin gently took the Ameliorate out of his hand and set it on the table. Harry sat up quickly, feeling wary and alert. Hermione scooped the sphere up and held it for a moment, looking relaxed, then passed it reluctantly to Ron.

"It's weird..." Ron mumbled, "Mum has some of these, but they don't have nearly this much... effect," he yawned widely.

Ginny looked embarrassed again and she muttered, "Too much Sleeping Charm, I suppose."

Dumbledore seemed very impressed by the little sphere, however. He spoke quietly to Ginny while the Ameliorate was passed around, "Your gift to Harry was the very best he could have received. I doubt he will have trouble sleeping this year."

Ginny smiled with a mixture of pride and pleasure in her eyes. She looked around the table and said happily, "Harry! You've got one last present!"

It was from Dumbledore. The box was wrapped in a shimmery, slightly translucent paper and Harry felt oddly as though he should be more careful opening this gift. He peeled the paper off, passing it to Hermione (who had a growing pile of it for Crookshanks next to her chair) and opened the box that was left.

A bright, gleaming, white light poured out from under the lid and, for a moment, Harry was forced to look away. Everyone, excluding Dumbledore, waited in baited breath for Harry to pry the top of the box the rest of the way off.

Harry blinked, finally peering inside the box. It looked like a Penseive, only it was very different from Dumbledore's. It was much smaller for one thing, distinctive runes patterned the brim, and as Harry lifted it out, it fit snugly in the palm of his hand. He could see that the liquid inside was brighter than Dumbledore's, more clear. 

"I suspect this will be helpful..." Dumbledore spoke quietly to him, in a voice only Harry could hear, while the gift was peered at by everyone else at the table, "this is a Dream Arrest. It works the same way as a Penseive. If you have bad dreams, I would like you to put them in here... perhaps this way, they can be better analyzed. And of course, " he continued, "It can be used for a limited amount of your own thoughts, as well..."

Harry saw Dumbledore's saddened old eyes and a beam of understanding shot between them both. If, and there was no doubt about it, he had nightmares, he would put them in here, but there was also the matter of the prophecy. Harry's mind had been packed with information lately, what with Sirius's death and the prophecy that foretold Harry's very destiny, Harry felt a sudden overwhelming gratitude toward Dumbledore.

"Thank you," Harry said in low tones, steadily meeting Dumbledore's blue gaze. Dumbledore nodded and they turned back to the group in awe of the Dream Catcher. 

"Oh, _wow_, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly, gazing at it over Ginny's shoulder, "these are really rare... and very expensive." At the word 'expensive', Mundungus's eyes gleamed, watching the gift slightly reluctantly. 

Hermione looked up at him. "I suppose it's to examine your dreams more closely, right?"

Harry nodded, feeling very self-conscious. He pulled the Dream Arrest out of Ginny's hands, and away from everyone's prying eyes, and put it back into it's box. He felt oddly protective of it, as though his thoughts and memories were already spinning and whirling down into it's icy white depths. 

"Harry! The time!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed abruptly, checking his watch, "the Dursleys will be returning any moment and we don't want trouble, do we?"

Harry shook his head, "Honestly, Mr. Weasley, I don't think they'd notice I wasn't back."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "Of course they will, Harry, " she said, rather forcefully, "if you'd like, you can leave your gifts here until it's time for you to come back again."

"Uh... sure," Harry answered. He wasn't ready to leave. This had probably been one of the best days he'd had since the night at the Department of Mysteries... _don't think about that,_ he thought firmly.

A sudden tapping noise caught everyone's attention, causing them to look around in confusion. Eventually, Dumbledore stood up and strode to the window, where Harry realized the tapping must have been coming from. As he opened the shutters, a tawny owl swooped in, dropping a letter. Dumbledore caught it deftly in his hand and silently read it's message, his brow furrowing deeper into his already lined face.

"Harry, you are to stay here tonight," he spoke shortly, striding to the drawing room doors and putting his hat on, "the Dursleys.. have not returned. Arabella tells us she saw dementors."


	2. A Very Pleasant Dinner

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, sadly. :)

Nothing Fails

Year Six 

_"Take care, Harry," Lupin said quietly, "Keep in touch."_

Harry had certainly kept his word. He wrote almost everyday; it was a subtle emotional escape from life at the Dursleys. Every letter he had received, however, told him that his actual escape from the wretched place would be later that summer._ "Dumbledore wants you safe..." _Lupin had written. Sighing, Harry slid down the length of his door. At least this summer he knew _why _Dumbledore wanted him to stay with the Dursleys. 

Harry knew the whole story back to front; how his mother's blood ran through them all, protecting him. How as long as he could call this place a home, he would be safe. Harry shook his head sharply, trying to forget thoughts of last year, but the memories flooded in so fast he was unable to stop them. Hermione, gasping as a blue flame brushed her chest, causing her to fall limply to the floor... Ginny Weasley, looking pained as she gripped her ankle... and then there was Sirius.

Sirius. A tight, unpleasant something was building in his chest and Harry swallowed. This summer had definitely been the worst, even more horrible than last year's. The Dursleys, in fear of being jinxed by a man with one bulging magical eye, had left Harry quite alone. Harry didn't have to do chores, he could be out later than Dudley, and making breakfast for the entire family was no longer an option. Not that Harry took advantage of any of this. He was almost longing to be doing chores, doing something, just so he wouldn't have to be alone... his mind dwelling on thoughts of Sirius.

It always came unexpectedly. Harry could be eating a piece of toast and suddenly his mind would fall on Sirius. Uncle Vernon definitely looked at him funny when Harry had choked on his piece of bread and jam, his eyes watering. Of course, the Dursleys never asked questions. And Harry wasn't about to tell them what had made him suddenly stop eating and quietly head to his room upstairs.

Yes, all in all, this summer was going horribly. On the one hand, however, he was getting letters almost everyday from a variety of people. Hermione and Ron were certainly on the list, but he'd also been writing to Professor Lupin, Ginny Weasley and Hagrid.

It was nice to speak with Lupin, who had once been a good friend of Harry's parents. The old professor always had words of encouragement. He wrote constantly, informing Harry of what was happening in the wizarding world, while carefully avoiding the subject of Sirius. Harry had strong suspicions that Lupin was feeling just like Harry was; but unlike Harry, he could hide it a little better. 

Ginny Weasley was something else all together. Still a little unused to seeing her talking so freely in front of him, Harry found himself almost looking forward to her letters. Unlike Hermione's serious tone, and Ron's cautious conversation, Ginny kept her mail cheerful and bright. Harry could not understand exactly how she had managed to do it; he definitely couldn't find anything to smile about.

"Get down here, boy! Now!" Aunt Petunia's voice suddenly echoed up the stairwell.

Harry pushed himself off the floor and opened his door. He started wearily down the stairs but when he reached the kitchen his feet came to an abrupt halt.

Mrs. Figg was leaning over the counter, seemingly in deep discussion. Or rather, Aunt Petunia was chattering gladly about the new roses she planted earlier while Mrs. Figg look blandly on. Harry cleared his throat lightly to announce his presence. They both turned to face him, Mrs. Figg looking slightly relieved to see Harry standing in the doorway. Aunt Petunia's smile vanished.

"I'm_ sure_ you remember Mrs. Figg?" Aunt Petunia spoke in a forced tone.

Harry glanced at Mrs. Figg, his heart bursting, and said, "Absolutely."

Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but Harry could have sworn he saw Mrs. Figg give him a shadow of a wink. It was odd, Harry hadn't seen another witch, wizard, or squib for weeks and the effect was causing him to struggle with his excitement. Perhaps he was leaving at last...

"Good," Aunt Petunia said sharply, then turned back to Mrs. Figg. "If you'd go on ahead, he'll be along in a minute."

"No, no! I don't mind waiting!" Mrs. Figg piped happily.

Aunt Petunia frowned. "Very well..." She glanced at Harry, looking very much like she was dying to say something nasty but wouldn't dare in front of a neighbor. "Mrs. Figg will be taking you for the evening," she spoke finally. "Vernon, Dudley and I are going out."

Harry's heart leapt further. Staying with Mrs. Figg? Normally, they would have just left him alone. Perhaps they were also remembering last summer. 

"All right. Am I leaving now?" Harry asked.

Aunt Petunia's lips pursed. "Yes. Go."

Harry turned quickly and started toward the door, barely listening as Mrs. Figg said her goodbyes to Aunt Petunia. He was going to spend an evening away from the Dursleys and with a woman in contact with wizards, no less! Harry grinned. Maybe she'd even show him pictures of all her cats...

He'd only been waiting on the doorstep of number four for a second, when the front door flew open, a look of disgust of Mrs. Figg's face as she swept out.

"Honestly..." she murmured, "that woman... and her boy! Nasty, boisterous thing he is..."

Harry grinned again, his hands in his pockets. "Mrs. Figg? What're are we going to be... uh ... doing?" 

Mrs. Figg smiled slightly. "We thought you might enjoy this. You'll be seeing some familiar faces at dinner."

"Who?" Harry said eagerly.

Mrs. Figg waved her hand impatiently. "You'll see soon enough." 

They walked on in silence, Harry's heart beating furiously. He was dying to see everyone... but suddenly, the prospect of having to face a whole group of people seemed daunting. They passed houses with golden lights pouring out of curtained windows and the trees and bushes cast long shadows on the sidewalks. Harry's stomach twisted with guilt. He didn't want anyone to ask questions about Sirius... he didn't know if he could answer them. 

Finally, after much walking, they reached Mrs. Figg house. The grass looked weedy and unkempt, something Aunt Petunia always wrinkled her nose at. There were at least a dozen cats roaming the yard. A few of them were pouncing on each other in the wilting begonias, yowling and hissing.

"Shoo, Scruffy!" Mrs. Figg said to a exceptionally decrepit looking tabby, who was in way of the door. The cat looked dolefully up at her then slinked off to a darker corner of the yard. 

The inside of her home was just as it had always been. This time, however, Harry recognized the tell-tale signs of a squib living in the house. He paused to read the titles of some books on the top of one of the shelves. In bold, red print, one read: _"Stay Charming: A Squib's Guide to Life"_ and the other: _"Muggle or Magic? What It Really Means When Someone Tells You You're Not a Witch." _And on closer inspection, Harry could see the feathered tops of quills sticking out of a nearby drawer. He was starting to wonder why he'd never noticed it before... but, of course, the last time he'd been here was when he was six. He'd probably been too busy trying to avoid eating stale cake to worry about anything else.

"This way! Hurry up, or we'll be late! Everyone's waiting!" Mrs. Figg called ahead of him from the kitchen.

"Waiting? Where are they?" Harry asked, following her. The house did seem mighty quiet. He followed her to the kitchen. It was also empty.

"Headquarters, where else? It's much too unsafe here... and Remus says you're clever..." 

She was bustling around the kitchen, peering under pots and pans. A Siamese cat curled around Harry's legs, causing him to jump slightly.

"Erm ... Mrs. Figg? What're you doing?" Harry asked as she fell on her hands and knees, rummaging through a cupboard.

"Looking... for... a..." She stood up suddenly and reached on top of the fridge, pulling down a can of cat food. "This!"

Harry stared at her.

"Well?! Take it, boy! Weren't you listening when I said we couldn't stay here?"

Harry stuck out his right hand hesitantly. "Uh... what is it?"

"A Port Key. Really, the way most go on about you... personally, I don't think you have a single ounce of sense," she said incredulously. 

Choosing to ignore this comment, Harry started to ask if she was coming with him but there was a sudden familiar tug behind his navel. Harry sped dizzily through a whirlwind of sound and color, only to come crashing down onto cold, stone ground.

Grimmauld Place. 


	3. Tea and A Conversation

Nothing Fails

  


Year Six

  


  


Secrets Revealed

  


  


At Dumbledore's words, many of the people around Harry leapt up from their seats in a frenzy of shouts and questions.

  


  


"Dumbledore, it cant be-"

  


  


"Dementors?!"

  


  


"It isn't true, Arabella can't _see_-"

  


  


Dumbledore held up a hand and the group fell silent, watching him anxiously.

  


  


"Please, there will be time for further explanation later, " said Dumbledore calmly, yet Harry could hear a steely note in his voice. "At this time, I would like any member of the Order who has tonight free to follow me. There is work to be done."

  


  


Many of the group looked around. Moody walked to Dumbledore's side, his leg clunking against the floor, then he turned and watched the group menacingly. Tonks raised an eager hand. "I'll help, Dumbledore!"

  


  


"As will I, " Kingsley Shacklebolt said in his deep voice after her, striding to meet Dumbledore in the doorway. Those that were left looked around.

  


  


"I would help, Dumbledore, but you know I've got that meeting with Charlie... I could owl him, tell him to wait until next time?" asked Bill.

  


  


Dumbledore nodded. "The more we can get, the better... Mundungus?"

  


  


"Damn," came a muffled voice behind Harry.

Harry turned to see Mundungus sidle into view. He looked very much as though he'd been trying to hide behind Harry; his face was apologetic and slightly furtive.

  


  


"Well, you see Dumbledore ..." He said quickly, his eyes pleading. Harry could smell whiskey on his breath. "Tonigh' just isn't a good night. Yeah... I 'ave... a very _ good_ business opportunity, see - "

  


  


"MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER!" Molly screeched, swooping down on him. "If I hear one more word about you and and that wretched habit you've got - I honestly don't know where you learned right and wrong, but it can't have occurred to you that dementors are certainly more impor - " 

  


  


"Molly! It's fine..." said Mr. Weasley, taking a gentle hold on his wife. "He _will_ help, wont he?" He added, glancing at Mundungus.

  


  


"Right, right," Mundungus murmured heavily, looking highly disappointed.

  


  


"Excellent," Dumbledore said swiftly, motioning to the small group of volunteers. "I will explain everything on the way. Follow me."

  


And with that he strode out of the room, the rest staying for a moment to wish Harry a happy birthday.

  


  


"We wish we could stay, really," Tonks said hurriedly, patting Harry on the shoulder. "But you understand..."

  


  


Harry nodded. "Of course I do."

  


"We'll most likely be back tomorrow, Arthur, " Moody said seriously to Mr. Weasley. His magical eye was twisting in its socket to watch the hallway outside. "If we die before then-"

  


  


"What a nice way to wish Harry a happy birthday, Mad-Eye," Tonks said, pulling a purple cloak around her shoulders. 

  


Moody scowled at her and turned to pull on his trench coat. After a few more hurried goodbyes, the group left, leaving Harry alone with the others. Suddenly, his scar seared across his forehead. 

  


  


"Ouch," he muttered, pressing his fingers to his forehead. His stomach was writhing and twisting, as though something hot and uncomfortable was boiling there.

  


  


"Harry?" said Ginny behind him. She seemed to be the only one who noticed his brief pain; the others were busy cleaning up and whispering to each other. "Is it your scar?" she asked softly.

  


  


Harry nodded, trying not to appear worried, "It's fine, happens all the time."

  


  


Just as quickly as the pain had come, it was gone, but the sick feeling in his stomach still lingered. Ginny watched him for a moment, then turned to help take down the balloons.

  


  


"It really is late," Molly said, waving her wand at a pile of dishes and they vanished instantly. "You all should be in bed. I'll send someone to get your things, Harry..."

  


Harry nodded. He was very grateful that Mrs. Weasley had suggested they go to bed; he didn't feel like being with company any more. As he was leaving the drawing room, he heard two loud cracks that signified Fred and George's departure to their room. Feeling suddenly exhausted, Harry followed Ron, Hermione, and Ginny down the hallway. 

  


He was watching his feet, thinking desperately of being in his bed, alone and away from everyone's prying eyes... his mind felt run-down and yet, at the same time, wary for any news of what was happening in Privet Drive. Unsurprisingly, Harry found himself caring more for the well-being of the neighbors and Mrs. Figg, then wondering what would become of the Dursleys. 

  


  


"Do you reckon there really are dementors in Privet Drive?" whispered Ron as they passed numerous sleeping portraits on the walls.

  


  


"I imagine so, " Hermione whispered back, "though I'm not sure how Mrs. Figg knew dementors were there, I always thought squibs couldn't see them. Has she ever mentioned it to you, Harry?"

  


  


But Harry was barely listening, still concentrating on his effort to make it to bed. His eyes had already started to droop and his legs were beginning to feel heavy and uncoordinated.

  


  


"Harry?" Hermione asked, peering into his face. "Are you okay?"

  


"I'm fine," he murmured, "just tired."

  


  


Hermione looked very much as though she wanted to say something to him, but Ron nudged her in the ribs and she closed her mouth. Harry barely noticed this behavior and when they reached Ron's room he fell immediately onto his own bed and turned on his side to listen to Ron bid Hermione and Ginny goodnight.

  


  


"Are you sure he's all right?" Harry heard Hermione whisper.

  


  


"Yeah. I'm sure he's just tired, like he said. Don't pester him, Hermione," Ron replied in an undertone.

  


  


"I'm not-" 

  


  


"Come on, let's go to bed," Ginny whispered, interrupting them before an argument started. "Goodnight."

  


  


"'Night."

  


  


Harry listened to the girls walking away down the hall and felt anger mounting up inside him. He was tired of everyone treating him like he was weak... or fragile. All throughout the party he had to avoid people's stares and whispers, pretending not to notice that everyone was walking on eggshells around him.

  


  


"Er ... mate? You asleep?"

  


Harry shut his eyes. "What?"

  


  


"Well, I was just going to say you could borrow some of my night clothes – that is until mum gets yours," said Ron. Harry could hear him moving things about in his trunk. "And are you just leaving you're presents downstairs?"

  


  


Harry groaned and ran his hands through his hair. "I forgot. I'll get them in the morning..."

  


  


Sighing deeply, Harry rolled himself off the bed. Ron tossed him a pair of bright orange Chudley Cannons pajamas. Harry blinked at them for a moment, wondering absently whether or not the color happened to glow in the dark, when Ron said,"They're too small for me, but I'm sure they'd fit you..."

  


  


Harry changed into them quickly, wanting only to lie back down and not think anymore. Ron took a long time dressing, partly because he kept getting distracted by Crookshanks, who was sticking his paws into the box containing Ron's chess pieces. Harry could hear the pieces squealing and shuffling around inside the box. Then, as if to add to Harry's irritableness, Pig decided to join in the din by twittering loudly and knocking against the brass bars of his cage. 

  


  


"Shut him up, will you?" Harry snapped.

  


  


Ron went to Pig and pushed a few Owl Treats through the bars. "He's just over-excited."

  


  


Harry ignored him and sank into his bed, curling under the covers. A moment later, the light went out and Ron muttered, "'Night."

  


  


"'Night," Harry answered back, pulling the covers up the his neck. He lay there in silence for a moment, then turned over in his bed, feeling suddenly awake. How was it that he could go from being so tired moments before, then switch so abruptly to not feeling sleepy at all? Harry stared into the blackness, not really thinking of anything.

  


  


And suddenly, an image all too familiar flashed in front of Harry's eyes. 

  


  


Sirius, sinking into the tattered black folds of a veil, his eyes wide with fear. 

  


  


Harry shut his eyes tightly, trying desperately not to think of it, to see it, but he knew it was inescapable. An uncomfortable pressure was building in his throat and he blinked, determined to think of anything else.

  


  


Ron snorted in the bed next to him, causing Harry to jump. He lay there for a second, his heart beating furiously, then he pushed the covers off his legs and slid out of bed. Pulling on his dressing gown, he tiptoed to the door, careful not to wake Ron.

  


  


The hallway outside was dark and gloomy. A faint, musty smell of mildew wafted up Harry's nose and he strode faster to the end of the hall. As he passed the portrait of Mrs. Black, a burning hatred rose within Harry and he had to restrain himself from ripping the painting off the wall himself. He tread down the stairs and roughly pushed the door to the kitchen open.

  


  


It was not as empty as he would have liked. 

  


  


Lupin was hanging over a steaming cup of tea at the end of the dining room table. Beside him was a half-empty bottle of what looked like fire-whiskey.

  


  


"S-sorry," Harry stuttered. He'd not been planning on people being up this late. Feeling suddenly embarrassed for not having thought of this, Harry started to back out of the room.

  


  


"No, wait," Lupin said. Harry was surprised to hear his voice was hoarse and guttural. Lupin pushed his teacup away from himself and motioned to a chair beside him.

Harry crossed the room and took the seat.

  


  


There was a moment's silence, in which Lupin tightened the cap of the fire-whiskey bottle, then said, "Can't sleep?"

  


  


Harry nodded, not meeting Lupin's eyes. 

  


  


"Me either... though I don't suppose _this_ is helping any." He held up the bottle. A few droplets of clear liquid slid down the glass sides. Suddenly, Harry noticed just how tired Lupin looked. He was pale; the color contrasted so greatly with his eyes that he appeared almost white in the flickering firelight. 

  


  


"No, I don't suppose it is..." Harry answered slowly. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to be alone or not but he knew he certainly couldn't leave Lupin alone in this state. An odd feeling was rising within him, something he couldn't quite place. 

  


  


"No..." Lupin murmured, setting the bottle down. He watched Harry quietly for a moment, then said, "Perhaps you would like a cup of tea?"

  


  


Harry nodded, preferring not to argue. Lupin stood up and went to the cabinet to get another cup. Harry watched him, feeling heartened, a much different feeling than the anger he'd felt when he'd walked in. The fire was glowing, filling the room with a pleasant warmth, and as Lupin passed him a steaming cup of tea, Harry took a sip, letting the liquid wash soothingly down his throat.

  


  


"Thanks," Harry said.

  


  


Lupin nodded. He was gazing idly at Harry's birthday presents, his eyes coming to focus on a small box. The Dream Arrest.

  


  


"May I?" he asked, his hand reaching for the box. Harry nodded mutely, gripping his tea cup tighter.

  


  


Lupin pulled the box toward himself and opened the lid. The light inside seemed brighter than it had that evening and Harry blinked rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the light. Lupin studied the tiny bowl inside, his fingers tracing the runes lightly.

  


  


"This is a very good gift," Lupin said, putting the Dream Arrest back into it's box and closing the lid. "Use it wisely."

  


  


"I will," Harry answered softly, taking another sip of tea. Lupin pushed the box back toward the other gifts and then poured himself some tea.

  


  


There was a prolonged quiet. Harry sipped his tea slowly, wanting to savor every drop. Lupin reached for the forgotten fire-whiskey bottle and tipped the rest into his tea cup. 

  


"Perhaps it will help," said Lupin slyly, his eyes shining.

  


  


"It might," Harry replied. Lupin's grin had reminded him of Sirius ... but instead of feeling a heart-wrenching pang, he felt oddly comforted. He poured himself another cup of tea. 

  


  


They sat in silence for a long time, neither looking the other in the eye, but both comfortable in a shared silence. Eventually, Lupin stood up to leave for bed. And instead of saying goodnight, his hand squeezed Harry's shoulder briefly, before he turned and tread up the staircase.

  


  


Harry remained there a long time, drinking the tea in the light of a fire's dying embers. 

  


  



	4. Grey Battles

_**Disclaimer: **_**This applies to the rest of the chapters. Everything belongs to Mrs. Rowling, sadly. **

  


  


**Nothing Fails**

  


  


_Year Six_

  


  


  


**Grey Battles**

  


  


  


Several loud pops and cracks echoed off the stone walls of the basement kitchen and Harry sat up, startled awake by the noise. There was a confusion of shouts and voices surrounding him; it looked as though a number of the Order, and assorted others, had apparated into the kitchen. 

  


  


"There was so many, Albus ..."

  


  


"We couldn't _find_ them!"

  


  


Dumbledore, who was standing by the pantry door, interrupted them. "This is not the time for explanation. I want Remus to help me take Bill and Tonks to St. Mungo's. The rest of you," he said, glancing heavily at them all, "get some rest."

  


  


Harry pushed himself through the crowd. There, held steadily up by Moody, was Tonks. Her skin was pale and her eyes were closed. Next to her, Bill was leaning against the wall, clutching his side and breathing shallowly. Harry's heart shot into his throat. He moved toward the two.

  


  


"Harry! You shouldn't be down here!" Mrs. Weasley said hurriedly to him, trying to push him toward the door. 

  


  


"I - I fell asleep!" Harry argued, fighting against Mrs. Weasley. "What's going on? Are they - "

  


  


"They will be all right, as soon as we get them to St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said, stepping toward him. "I want you to wait here, Harry, until we return."

  


  


Lupin was moving out of the shadows to help Bill and Tonks. Moody leaned Tonks against the wall, then magicked her to the fireplace. Bill, however, pushed Lupin aside, so as to walk on his own, but stumbled and fell roughly to the floor. There was a rush to help him up.

  


  


"Mum? What's – oh! Bill!" came a small cry from the doorway.

  


  


Everyone turned to see Ginny running toward Bill. "Oh, Bill – are you all right?! What happened? Can you-"

  


  


Mrs. Weasley pulled Ginny gently away from him. Ginny struggled against her, looking panicked. Dumbledore turned to help Lupin in his struggle to take Bill to the fireplace. 

  


"Mum, what's wrong -" demanded Ginny further, but Mrs. Weasley interrupted her. 

  


"Everything is fine! They're going to St. Mungo's, they'll be all right!" But even as Mrs. Weasley said this, Harry could see her eyes were just as fearful as Ginny's. Mrs. Weasley gripped Ginny's arm tighter, to keep her from running to Bill.

  


  


"We'll be back with news as soon as possible," Lupin spoke seriously to the group. He threw a handful of sparkling dust into the fireplace, then pulled Tonks into the fire with him. "St. Mungo's!" he shouted.

  


  


As they swirled out of sight, Dumbledore stepped in after them, Bill at his side. Before he went, however, he said to everyone, "I insist that you all get some rest. Remus and I will return shortly." And then he was gone.

  


  


There was a moment's quiet, but it was quickly interrupted by the entrance of the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione. They all stopped at the door to gaze on the scene before them. 

  


  


Fred was the first to speak. "Dad? What's happened?"

  


  


Mr. Weasley looked around at the expectant group, then at the Order. Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded toward him and stepped forward.

  


  


"I think it would be better to wait until Dumbledore has returned before anything is explained," said Kingsley quietly. His voice was deeper than usual, it seemed to rumble across the room. "A lot has happened, but I am afraid we can only tell you so much, as we barely know what has happened ourselves. Once Dumbledore returns, he can give us answers."

  


"But, I don't understand..." said Ron, staring about them all. Then, suddenly going white, he said, "Wait... no one's been hurt, have they? The Dementors - "

  


  


"No one has been hurt seriously," said Mr. Weasley. He paused and removed his glasses to wipe them on his robes. "Perhaps you all should sit down..."

  


Harry, realizing he'd been gripping the back of a chair very tightly, turned it around and sank into it. Mrs. Weasley let go of Ginny, but Ginny did not sit down with the rest of the family; instead, she paced the stone floor in front of the fireplace, her eyes very red. 

  


  


Hermione went to Ginny and put a consoling arm around her shoulders. "Where's Bill... and Tonks?" she asked.

  


  


Moody answered her. "Dumbledore and Lupin have taken them to St. Mungo's."

  


There was an outburst at the table. Mr. Weasley had to put a restraining arm across Fred and George's chests. Moody glanced at them, his magical eye rolling, then started again, "They'll be all right, I assure you, some of our best fighters... Tonks is a little worse off than Bill, but they'll come around."

  


  


Harry wasn't sure whether Moody was speaking about their current condition or their fighting ability. His heart had stopped pounding some, but not completely. Ginny was now scrunched in a chair by the fire, Hermione sitting on the arm of it.

  


  


Moody continued, "You all are aware that Dementors were at Privet Drive. We went immediately to Figg's place, only to find it empty -"

  


"Wait," Harry said, looking around the group."Where's Mundungus?"

  


"Dumbledore sent him somewhere, none of us are exactly sure what he's doing, though -" Mr. Weasley answered. 

  


  


"What's wrong with Bill?" Ginny interrupted from her chair. Her eyes reflected the blazing firelight. 

  


"Right," Moody said gruffly, "There were dementors, of course. And Death Eaters. A right bunch of them to tell you the truth -"

  


  


"Alastor, I do not think they need every detail," Mrs. Weasley spoke sharply from her place at the table. Harry turned in his chair to see her, but found she was hidden in shadow.

  


  


"I was just telling them what they've got a right to know," Moody growled back, leaning on his wooden leg.

  


  


"They don't have to know everything!" Molly spat at him, shooting forward so that firelight flooded her face. There was a definite red tinge in her cheeks. "They're young - "

  


  


"Last I checked -" Fred started.

  


  


"You left a perfectly good education to open a joke shop?" Molly snapped at him. She turned back to Moody. "I suggest you tell them only what they _need_ to know. That means not inviting them to ask whatever they please, like Sirius -"

  


  


She stopped suddenly, suddenly looking very pale. There was a pregnant pause.

  


  


"Like Sirius what?" Harry asked softly, though anger was boiling up inside him. He'd been watching Molly get riled up, it reminded him of her behavior last summer, and he found he'd been almost waiting for her to mention Sirius.

  


  


Everyone glanced nervously around. Mrs. Weasley's mouth fell open to say something, but then she closed it rather quickly. After a moment, she opened it again.

  


  


"Harry, dear, you know I didn't mean anything by it..." she trailed off quietly. Harry had never seen her look so uncomfortable. The others in the room shifted uneasily in their chairs. Ron was staring at Harry, his mouth slightly open.

  


  


"I'm afraid I don't, " Harry replied. There was an odd ringing in his ears. He felt as though something was waiting to go off, something was building inside him.

  


  


"I only meant -" she continued weakly, but Harry interrupted her.

  


  


"What? Only meant what? That Sirius was... was a coward? That he was _reckless_?" At this, Harry shot a look at Hermione. She looked fearfully back, her eyes beginning to glisten. But Harry found he didn't care. He stood up. 

  


  


"Harry, stop it." 

  


  


He turned sharply, only to see Ginny standing furiously behind him, her jaw set.

  


  


"I know how you feel... we all do. Just stop arguing. Now isn't the time." Her eyes were boring into his. For some reason, Harry couldn't stand to look at them. He turned away.

  


  


"She's right you know," said Kingsley slowly, "We've all got our hearts in the right places. But what we need now is a good explanation of the night's events."

  


  


Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips slightly at this, looking uncannily like Aunt Petunia, but she did not open her mouth again. 

  


But just as Moody started to tell the story again, the fireplace erupted in flames, first spitting out Lupin, and then Dumbledore.

  


  


Everyone started speaking to them upon their arrival, but Harry sank heavily back into his chair. His hands were shaking and his scar was aching slightly. He'd almost lost control... in front of the whole Order and the Weasleys, no less. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly very rude for shouting at Mrs. Weasley.

  


  


" - soon be well," Dumbledore was saying.

  


There was a collective sigh of relief, and Mrs. Weasley gathered Ginny into her arms. Some were smiling weakly, others collapsing wearily into chairs, but Harry saw Kingsley and Mr. Weasley leading a shaky Lupin out of the kitchen. He watched them for a moment, wondering whether he should follow, when Hermione spoke behind him.

  


  


"It's almost the full moon, Harry," she said softly. Ron was standing next to her, watching the kitchen door swing shut. 

  


  


"Oh," Harry answered back, recognition crossing his face. Was that why Lupin had looked so worn last night? He glanced back at Hermione and Ron. They were watching him carefully.

  


  


"Er – sorry about earlier," he started guiltily, but Ron shook his head.

  


"Don't worry about it mate," he said firmly. Hermione nodded by his side, opening her mouth, but a voice stopped her.

  


  


"I would like everyone to please get some rest -" Dumbledore announced calmly.

  


  


"But what _happened?_" Fred and George demanded at once. 

  


  


"That will be explained shortly, as soon as I've spoken alone with Harry," Dumbledore said gravely, catching Harry's eye. Harry looked questioningly back, but Dumbledore had turned his gaze.

  


  


Everyone turned an eye to Harry. The Weasleys started to ask questions again and it took quite a long time to get everyone out the door. In the end, it was the threat of Moody's wand and Mrs. Weasley's shouting that finally cleared the room.

  


  


Dumbledore motioned for Harry to come closer, and Harry moved to a chair across from him. Before Harry could ask anything of him, however, Dumbledore aimed a blue spell at the kitchen door.

  


"I am afraid this is a conversation we won't want people overhearing," Dumbledore explained, settling down in a seat. He fixed Harry with his blue gaze and continued.

  


  


"What's happened?" Harry asked immediately.

  


  


Dumbledore nodded. "There were indeed Dementors at Privet Drive. But it was also a trap, as I'd much suspected. Whomever sent that letter made a mistake when signing it _Arabella Figg_. You and I both know very well that she is incapable of seeing such creatures."

  


  


"But who would know to send it here?" asked Harry slowly, trying to understand. "This place is protected, hidden, right?" 

  


  


"Which brings me to my next point," continued Dumbledore. He looked very tired for a moment, then looked at Harry carefully. "In light of your hearing last summer, I believe that certain untrustworthy advisors of Cornelius Fudge -"

  


  


"The Malfoys?" interrupted Harry, moving to the edge of his seat.

  


  


"Perhaps," answered Dumbledore, "But the Malfoys were not the only spies within the Ministry at the time. Even now, some linger, the ones who happened to avoid Azkaban. However, I believe that the moment Voldemort was informed Arabella Figg took watch over you during the summers, she became an immediate target." 

  


  


"Target? Is she hurt?" Harry asked quickly, afraid to ask what was really going through his mind. Surely, after seeing her only two days ago, she wasn't dead?

  


  


"I am afraid to say she has gone missing," said Dumbledore sadly, and he sighed softly. "It appears we could not arrive soon enough. The Death Eaters still do not know where Grimmauld Place is yet, thankfully, but I do not wish you to return to Privet Drive."

  


  


"I don't understand," Harry said, feeling like his brain was clogged up in information. "If Grimmauld Place could eventually be found out, wouldn't you want me to return - " 

  


"I'm very sorry to say that it seems your Aunt and Uncle did not return home last night either," said Dumbledore, shaking his head so that his silver beard glimmered in the firelight. "No," he murmured, seemingly to himself, "we were very unlucky last night."

  


  


Harry didn't answer him. A sort of numb disbelief was raising the hairs on Harry's skin and he blinked. The Dursleys were missing also? To his own surprise, Harry found himself praying they weren't dead. Yes, they had mistreated him, yes they had been cruel, harsh, and so very unkind all these years... but Harry had never wished them death. The hate he had for them, funnily enough, was not the same sort of hate he had for people like Bellatrix Lestrange. 

  


  


"I would like you to stay here until we have further word on the Dursleys," Dumbledore said softly, watching him. Harry looked up at him and saw that the lines around Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have increased. He looked very old.

  


  


"Okay," Harry said shakily back, wanting only to lie down and sleep again. He gazed around and noticed the empty fire whiskey bottle from the night before lying on top of the table. 

  


  


"Professor?" he asked. "Will Lupin be all right?"

  


  


Dumbledore looked up. "Because of the full moon, do you mean?" 

  


  


"Er- yes. I saw him leaving earlier. He didn't look at all well," Harry said, thinking of how shaky Lupin had appeared when he was leaving the room.

  


  


Dumbledore sighed heavily, and leaned back into his chair. "Yes, I think he will. Professor Snape has gratefully been providing him with Wolfsbane Potion; he will be transforming a week from now, in the attic of this house. And don't worry, " he added amusedly, seeing Harry's expression, "we'll charm the doors. You'll all be perfectly safe."

  


  


"I had tea with him last night. He looked... worn," Harry said, slightly unsure of why he was telling Dumbledore this. 

  


  


"Yes, I supposed he would," Dumbledore said, surveying Harry over his half-moon glasses. After a moment of careful consideration, he continued, "Last night, Remus was supposed to meet with another werewolf, to persuade him to work with us. You see, Voldemort has been recruiting not only giants and goblins, but dark creatures as well; Werewolves... Vampires. Unfortunately, the man Remus arranged to meet didn't show..." He looked steadily at Harry. "We are afraid he's joined forces with Voldemort."

  


  


Harry sat quietly, gazing at a spot on the table. After a long silence, he said, "Erm... Professor?" 

  


  


"Yes?" said Dumbledore.

  


  


"Well," Harry said awkwardly, feeling uncomfortable. "Why are you, er, telling me all this?" He looked expectantly up at the old Headmaster.

  


  


Dumbledore studied him for a moment. "It is not... _wise_, to repeat the mistakes of last year," he said finally. 

  


Harry nodded, looking back down at his hands. Time had certainly passed since that night in the Department of Mysteries... and yet, sometimes it felt just as raw and cold as though it happened only the day before. Harry brushed the hair off his forehead and sighed. _Never a free moment, _he thought wearily.

  


  


Dumbledore looked at him for another long minute, but Harry had nothing more to say. Exhaustion, it seemed, had gotten the better of him. Eventually, Dumbledore stood, Harry mirroring this action.

  


  


"I will explain everything to the others," said Dumbledore quietly. "If you would prefer, I'll tell them to let you rest for awhile?"

  


  


Harry nodded.

  


"Very well," said Dumbledore, striding to the door and removing the spell. The door swung open.

  


  


"I shall see you soon, Harry," Dumbledore said, before striding out, leaving the door open behind him.

  


  


Harry stood in the middle of the room for a moment, gathering his thoughts, then slowly, he scooped as many presents as he could into his arms. Making sure he'd gotten everything he could carry, he left the drafty basement kitchen and traipsed up the stair case.

  


When he passed Hermione and Ginny's room, a number of voices met his ears. From what little Harry could hear, it seemed Fred and George had used another one of their pranks, perhaps to lighten everyone's mood. Shaking his head and smiling slightly, Harry strode to his and Ron's room, dumped his presents on Ron's bed, then collapsed on his own.

  


  


He lay sprawled on the bed, watching sunlight creep it's way across the ceiling. As he turned over, his eyes drooped shut.

  


  


He was standing in front of the archway. The veil fluttered and swayed, sweeping towards him. Harry stepped closer.

  


  


There were soft whispers. Harry leaned his head to the side, straining to hear them. 

  


The whispers grew louder. Harry moved closer, his skin brushing the folds on the veil. It felt cold against his fingers, but smooth, like snake skin. 

  


The whispers were pounding in his ears, swirling through his mind. 

  


But he could not make out their words....

  


So, he did what seemed logical, and stepped through the veil.

  


  


"NOOO!" Harry shouted, starting up from his place on the bed. He was drenched in icy sweat; his clothes clung to his skin, hair was damp. He gasped slightly, and took a deep breath. _It was just a dream..._

  


  


Harry shook his head roughly, rubbing his fingers, trying not remember the feel of the veil against his skin. Slowly, Harry stood up and put his glasses on. 

  


  


Still breathing shallowly, and slightly unaware of what he was doing, he moved toward the gifts on Ron's bed. His hands rummaged through them, shoving them apart... 

  


  


Shakily, finding what he wanted, he pulled the Dream Arrest from it's box.

  


He took another deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Let's hope this works," he murmured. Pulling out his wand and touching it to his head, which suddenly felt like a foolish thing to do in this state, he sighed. Against his best wishes, Harry tried to remember the dream.

  


  


It wasn't difficult. _The cold... the whispers... _

  


  


Carefully, he pulled the wand away from his head. To his surprise, a shining strand of bluish light clung to it. He moved it toward the Dream Arrest.

  


  


But as the strand tumbled down, it didn't swirl and twist in the depths of the bowl. 

  


  


It vanished.

  


Harry gazed into the Dream Arrest, trying to see inside. He prodded the shining white liquid with his wand, waiting for a reaction. Nothing happened. Frustrated, Harry repeated the process. He held his wand to his temple, remembered the dream, pulled the strand away. Still, the dream refused to stay. Why wasn't it working?

  


  


His bedroom door creaked opened. Harry looked up, but the moment he saw who was in the doorway, his anger seethed and boiled to the surface. He leapt from his spot on the bed and strode the the door.

  


  


"It's the Potter boy come back, " said the house elf gleefully. 

  


  


  


  



	5. In the Midst of Chaos

  


  


  


In the Midst of Chaos

  


  


Chapter Five

  


  


  


Anger coursed through Harry's veins, poisoning him. A white hot fury burned in his eyes, and he stared Kreacher down, at lost for words that could express anything he was feeling.

  


"Why's Potter so quiet, Kreacher wonders? Is it because the nasty, blood traitor is never coming back?" Kreacher spoke gladly, not bothering to lower his voice as he made his insults.

  


Harry let out a roar, that sounded much more like a growl, and dove toward Kreacher. The house-elf gave him a frightened, panicked look, and tried to crawl away, but Harry had grabbed him roughly about the waist. Tightening his grip, Harry slammed Kreacher against the wall as hard as he could. The house-elf let out a cry of pain.

  


Harry didn't care. "Never – speak – Sirius – your fault – dead," he managed, unaware that he wasn't making much sense. He slammed Kreacher even more roughly against the wall. To his pleasure, blood was trickling from the elf's mouth and a large, bruised lump was forming on his head.

  


Harry's fingers found Kreacher's neck and tightened. The house-elf sputtered.

  


"Harry! What are you doing?" came a startled voice from the doorway. It was Hermione. She looked both shocked and furious.

  


Harry only strengthened his grip around Kreacher's throat. 

  


"Harry, let go of him!" she shouted, striding to meet the two. She pulled furiously at Harry's fingers, finally prying them away. Kreacher gasped and fell on the floor. But before Harry could get hold of him again, Hermione had dragged Harry half-way across the room, away from Kreacher. The house-elf shot them another fearful look before he bolted down the hallway.

  


"Hermione – let – go – of – me!" Harry panted, trying to loosen Hermione's grip on his arms. 

  


"No, Harry, I won't," Hermione gasped, trying to keep her hold on Harry. After a minute or so of their struggle, Harry finally tore away from her. He jumped up and sped toward the open door, his eyes searching the hallway outside for Kreacher. 

  


"Harry, no!" Hermione said furiously, yanking him back into the room. She slammed the door behind her. Harry, his energy quickly depleting, sank to floor by Ron's bed. 

  


"What in the world were you thinking? You could have killed him, Harry! For Merlin's sake, keep your temper under control – I'm always telling you to only be _nice_ to him, why can't you just do that? Not _strangle_ the poor – " 

  


"Leave me alone, Hermione," muttered Harry, drawing his knees to his chest. He was breathing hard, and his hands were shaking.

  


"_Leave you alone?_" said Hermione incredulously, staring at him in disbelief. "If I had simply left you alone, Kreacher would be dead! It would be – " 

  


"All the better," murmured Harry, shutting his eyes briefly. 

  


"What are you talking about?" asked Hermione, confused. Her hair seemed bushier than ever; it floated in messy torrents around her face.

  


Harry watched her, debating whether or not he should tell Hermione exactly why they should all hate Kreacher. Hermione just stared at him, frowning heavily.

  


"Hermione ..." he started, but was unsure of what to say. He lifted himself off of the floor and moved to the window, half wishing she would just leave.

  


"Harry," said Hermione suddenly, "What's this doing out?"

  


He turned. Hermione was standing near Ron's bed, pointing to the Dream Arrest. 

  


Harry sighed. "I had a dream. Don't worry about it."

  


Hermione's eyebrows knitted slightly. "Was it about Voldemort?"

  


Harry turned back to the window, choosing not to answer. He only wanted to be alone; the dream, combined with Kreacher's appearance, had left him weak and tried. Out the window, sunlight had begun to glint off of the tree tops and muggle houses nearby. Smoke was rising from the chimney next door, curling and fading into the blue sky. 

  


"Harry."

  


"_What_, Hermione?" Harry answered back, whirling around to face her.

  


She didn't answer at first. Instead, she sank onto Ron's bed, causing Harry's gifts to sag toward her. She pushed them away. "Why did you attack Kreacher?" she asked finally, softly.

  


"Hermione, it's nothing. Really." He badly wanted her to leave now. He put his hands in his pockets, waiting.

  


"Nothing?" Hermione repeated incredulously. "Oh come on, Harry! That was insane what you just did – "

  


"Hermione, listen to me – "

  


"No, Harry, hear me out," she looked angry. Her next words tumbled from her mouth, as though she'd been waiting a long time to say them. "I'm worried about you, you know? All you've been doing recently is ignoring all of us, and being horrible. Harry, do you – do you honestly think that's how he'd have wanted you to be acting? Wouldn't he want you to be happy?"

  


Harry turned back to the window. He didn't answer.

  


"Harry, please... just talk to me. That's what I'm here for," she said softly. Harry could hear the tears in her voice.

  


He looked down. He suddenly remembered the picture of Phineas Nigellus on the opposite wall, but as he glanced at it, it was empty and dusty. "Where is everyone?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

  


"They're eating breakfast. Ron and Ginny won't be up here, they're playing chess. Harry... can't you at least tell me – "

  


"Look," Harry burst out, turning sharply. "You want to know why I was trying to give Kreacher what he deserves? It's because – because _he's_ the reason Sirius is gone, okay?"

  


Hermione stared at him, her mouth open. "What?"

  


"Oh, yeah," Harry said savagely. It hurt to be saying any of this, it tore at his insides and made his throat ache, but at the same time, it was oddly relieving to speak the words aloud. "He snuck off one day, to the Malfoys, and they set up the whole thing... that day – " he started, struggling to finish, "that day I went to check if Sirius was here, and I met Kreacher, Kreacher told me Sirius had gone to the Depart – ," Harry blinked, now fighting to get the words out. "But you want to know something?"

  


Hermione stared at him, shocked, and shook her head slightly.

  


"Sirius _was_ here, " Harry said roughly, his voice hoarse. "Kreacher lied."

  


Hermione let out a horrified breath, one she'd been holding. She raised her hands slowly to cover her mouth.

  


"Voldemort set everything up. He was banking on – " Harry's voice lowered, to something just above a whisper. He turned back to the window. "He was banking on my love of _playing the hero. _"

  


There was a pregnant pause.

  


"Oh, Harry, " Hermione murmured. "Oh, _Harry_, I'm so – so sorry_. _I should never have said that. I... "

  


Her sentence hung limply in the silence. Harry rested his hands against the windowsill and watched little piles of dust rise around his fingers. His throat was tight and an unpleasant burning had started in his eyes. He wished Hermione would leave.

  


"Harry, I... "

  


"Just go, Hermione."

  


There was another long silence, and then, to Harry's surprise, he heard Hermione rise from the bed and move toward the door. Her footsteps paused momentarily, but the door eventually swung open, and then closed.

  


All resolve having left him, Harry sank onto his bed, a shaking hand passing over his eyes. 

  


Outside, grey clouds covered the sun, dimming the day's warmth.

  


*** 

  


When Harry arrived in the kitchen about an hour later, he found only Lupin and Kingsley occupying it.

  


"Hello, " said Kingsley, smiling at him. "We were just speaking of you. There's something here for you."

  


"What?" he asked curiously, looking around the table. An open envelope was laying open in front of Lupin.

  


"Your O.W.L. results," said Lupin, grinning slightly, "I hope you don't mind that we took the liberty of reading them. Molly needed the letter inside, to shop for your things."

  


"Oh, that's fine," Harry said, trying to sound casual, when really his heart was beating considerably faster. He'd forgotten all about the O.W.L.s ... "How'd I do?"

  


"Why don't you take a look?" Kingsley said, handing him a piece of parchment.

  


Harry took a deep breath and glanced down at the paper.

  


_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

__Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

  


  


Dear Mr. Potter,

  


Enclosed in this letter are the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Examinations. We are pleased to inform you that out of a possible fifteen O.W.L.s, you have received – 

  


"_Eleven?" _sputtered Harry, gripping the parchment roughly between his fingers. A kind of bursting feeling had erupted in his stomach. He blinked, then looked around at Lupin and Kingsley. "Eleven!"

  


Lupin grinned back at him, his eyes twinkling. "Very well done, Harry. But I might I suggest you take a closer look at the results – particularly Potions?"

  


Harry searched the letter, still slightly dazed, then read:

  


Potions – Theory Examination: _Acceptable_

Practical Examination: _Outstanding_

  


Harry's mouth fell open. Outstanding? He'd received and Outstanding in _Potions_?

A blank buzzing was filling his head. True he'd done better than if Snape had been examining them, but surely it hadn't made that much of a difference? Harry sank shakily into a chair, suddenly feeling lighter than he had all week. 

  


"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked vaguely, looking around. He had to tell them...

  


"In the drawing room," Lupin said, still grinning slightly at him. "So, has all your hard work paid off?"

  


"Definitely," Harry answered, grinning just as widely back. "I didn't think – well, I didn't think I did all that well when I _took _them_. _But... " As he gazed at the paper in his hands, a sudden thought striking him. "I can become an Auror now!"

  


"Auror?" Kingsley and Lupin said simultaneously.

  


"Er – yeah. We had a lot of career choices and things to decide last year... and, well, " he looked up at them, feeling slightly awkward, "that's what I chose. Professor McGonagall told me I would need at least an O in Potions before Snape would teach me..."

  


Kingsley nodded. "That would be a fitting profession for you. I often wondered what you wanted to be... Now, if you're curious about – "

  


Harry tried to listen as Kingsley spoke about his own training, but his concentration kept drifting. The numb shock that had filled him earlier had turned, wonderfully, to warm relief. He hadn't realized how dependent he'd been upon finding out his results, but now that he gripped the letter in his hands, he started to feel happier than he had in ages.

  


He was going to be an Auror. He grinned suddenly, imagining the look on Snape's face when he turned up for the professor's N.E.W.T class... And how would McGonagall react when he'd tell her? She had, after all, promised to help him become an Auror if it was the last thing she did... but then again, perhaps she'd only said that to irk Umbridge. 

  


"Harry," Lupin said quietly, interrupting Kingsley. "Why don't you go find Ron and Hermione?"

  


Harry looked up, startled out of his reverie, and said, "Er – yeah, thanks!"

  


With that, he bounded out of the kitchen and up the staircase. When he reached the drawing room, he found Hermione and Ron had already seen their own results.

  


" - it's how much we _knew_ you'd get. Quit complaining!" Ron said loudly, to a near hysterical Hermione.

  


"You don't get it Ron, there's no way I could have gotten only fourteen! It's all that awful Umbridge woman's fault. She distracted us while we were taking our Astronomy exam, if I had finished - "

  


"You still would have got higher than anybody! Merlin, can't you just – "

  


"Hullo, " Harry said cheerfully from the doorway, interrupting their fight. "I see Hermione's done well. What about you Ron?"

  


"Nine," Ron said proudly, holding up an crumpled piece of parchment. "You?"

  


"Er – here," Harry said, handing him the paper. He suddenly felt guilty for outdoing Ron. 

  


Hermione jumped up eagerly from her chair and looked over Ron's shoulder to see Harry's results. Both Ron and Hermione's mouths dropped.

  


"_Eleven_?" Hermione squealed, catching him in a hug. Over her bushy hair, Harry watched Ron apprehensively. Ron, however, grinned widely back at him.

  


"That's fantastic, Harry! " he said loudly, over Hermione, who was talking so fast it was hard to make out exactly what she was saying. 

  


"Yes, brilliant job, Harry, " said a soft voice behind him.

  


Harry tuned around and saw Ginny sitting in a chair by the fire. Her eyes were sparkling. 

  


"Thanks, " Harry said, feeling unusually self-conscious. 

  


"Up for a game of chess?" she said, picking up a box next to her.

  


"Er – what?" Harry said, who'd been suddenly distracted by the light glinting off her red hair. An unpleasant heat was creeping onto his cheeks. Behind him, Hermione had started to argue with Ron again.

  


"I said, would you like a game of chess?"

  


"Uh – sure," he said. "I'm not great at it though."

  


Ginny laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not much good either. And we're using Ron's pieces, so that won't be any help. They only take a liking to him."

  


Harry grinned and sat down across from her, feeling comfortable again. It was only Ginny, really... what had caused that blush earlier? Harry shook it from his mind as he set up his pieces. 

  


"Ron, this is useless. I've got better things to do then waste my time arguing with you," Hermione said huffily and stood up to leave. 

  


Ron rolled his eyes at Harry as she slammed the door behind her. "Honestly, Harry, I don't know what it is with her. She doesn't get all the O.W.L.s possible, and she goes ballistic. If she _did _happen get all the O.W.L.s possible, she'd still find something to complain about." He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. "I'm hungry, you want anything Harry?"

  


"Er – okay, " he said, moving his pawn forward. "Ginny?"

  


Ginny looked up from her side of the board. "Get me a butterbeer, will you, Ron?"

  


"Yeah, yeah, sure..." He left the room.

  


"I love having brothers who will nick food for me," Ginny said, grinning at him.

  


"Yes, " Harry said, watching Ginny's bishop attack his knight. "Though it's easier at Hogwarts, yeah? The house-elves practically shove the food down your throat..."

  


"Don't let Hermione hear you saying that," Ginny said mischievously, winking at him over the board. 

  


Harry's stomach gave an odd twist. He turned his gaze back onto the board, trying to look casual. _Really_, he thought,_ it_ is _only Ginny_... 

  


There was a moment's silence, and then Ginny said, "Harry?"

  


"Yeah?" he said, looking up at her. Her eyes were dark and serious.

  


"If you don't mind my asking... what was it Dumbledore told you this morning?" She bit her lip slightly, almost nervously.

  


But Harry found he didn't mind talking to her about it. A cool sort calm had overcome him and he told her, quietly, what Dumbledore had said.

  


"Well, we knew that much... " Ginny said after he told her of Mrs. Figg's and the Dursley's disappearance. 

  


Harry nodded. "He also said something about Lupin. You've noticed he's been ill, right?"

  


"Yeah," Ginny said sadly. "It's almost the full moon... "

  


Harry watched her, wondering how much he should tell her, when she suddenly said, "Harry! It's almost the full moon!"

  


"Er – yeah. You just... said that..."

  


"No, I mean, it's almost your real birthday!"

  


Harry blinked. "You're right, it is!" He gazed into the fire, and then said, "Why didn't you have my party then?"

  


"Well, Lupin wanted to come didn't he? So we moved it up a little."

  


Nodding, Harry watched one of his pawns putting up a brave fight with a rook. 

  


"You'll never take me!" it squealed.

  


Ginny laughed, picked it up off the board, and dropped it into a container writhing with Harry's other pieces. "The poor thing... so brave," she murmured, grinning.

  


"I thought you said you were no good at chess!" Harry said in mock outrage, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, I'm not," Ginny said, giggling. "You're just more miserable at it then I am, Harry."

  


Harry laughed and watched Ginny lean forward to inspect the board. If he were to lean forward right now, too, their faces would almost touching and... Harry pulled farther back into his chair, startled. The awkward flush was creeping into his cheeks again.

  


Ron burst through the door. Harry jumped.

  


"She'll be going on about those exams for weeks, Harry... " Ron said mulishly, tossing him and Ginny a butterbeer. "Do you know what she's doing right now?"

  


"No, " said Harry, popping the cork off his bottle.

  


"You'll never believe it. She's _studying_ for her N.E.W.T.s."

  


"_What?_"

  


"Yeah. Mum just got back with all the new school stuff. I'm telling you Harry, it'll be mad this year with her... and guess what else mum's bought?" said Ron, taking a large swig of butterbeer. 

  


"What?"

  


"Dress robes. We better not have another bloody ball this year, if we do... " He looked off out the window, as if pondering just what'd he do if a ball did occur.

  


"Really, Ron, it won't be that bad," said Ginny, "Just ask Hermione and get it over with."

  


"Just _what?_" sputtered Ron, almost dropping his butterbeer. "_What are you on about?_" 

  


"I'm talking about you asking Hermione to the ball like you're supposed to, " Ginny said absently, while Harry struggled very hard to keep his face straight.

  


"I – I have no – whatever," Ron said, his eyes huge. He took three large gulps of his butterbeer, then dropped the bottle onto a table. "I – I need to go to the... the loo."

  


He sped from the room. As soon as the door swung shut, Harry let out a snort of laughter.

  


"Well done, Ginny," Harry said, grinning at her.

  


"I know, " she answered back, smiling happily back at him. "I've just won."

  


Harry looked down just in time to see his king being dragged off the board by Ginny's very violent queen. He looked back up at Ginny.

  


"Another game?" she asked cheerfully, setting up the board again.

  


Harry watched her, a feeling of giddy pleasure spreading through his stomach. 

He smiled crookedly at her. "Why not?"


	6. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

****Hello, everyone! I'm very very very sorry that I haven't updated in ages – I've stumbled into some plot holes, and I'm trying to fix them. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, particularly Luisa – whom I'm doing this author's note for! ;)

In the next couple of chapters, a lot of things should be explained – you'll eventually find out what's happened with the Dursleys, we'll have a couple new characters, and Harry might just be revealing a few secrets... and many other things will happen, I'm sure. I hope to get the chapter out in the next week or two; I'm going to take spring break to write some more of the next chapter. I've also been working on a web site, that at the moment, is nothing but a front page. If anyone wants to have a look, go to madqueen.com. Once it's all done, it'll have my fic, original work and just stuff about me on it. :) I hope you'll all continue to read this fic, as I continue to read yours! 

Have a good day, everyone!

EvieMarie (SpankyButtons)

Another note: My work is also on phoenixsong.net, hpnetwork.co.uk, and fictionalley. I tend to update fastest on hpnet, so make sure you check there if I haven't updated in a while here. Thanks again!


	7. Living Statues

**Nothing Fails**

Living Statues

_Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, never found his body._

_-- Alastor Moody_

Lundy. I have a proposal to make.

Tom Lundy felt fear stab his heart as he watched red eyes flare up from the darkness. _Lord Voldemort. Flight of Death. French root in meaning. 'Vol' can also mean thief._

Y-yes? And what might that be?

A lip less smile curled in the candlelit room. Are you frightened?

_Fear. An emotion experienced in anticipation of some specific pain or danger. Usually accompanied by a desire to flee or fight._

Tom murmured. A bead of sweat slipped down his neck.

There's no need to lie to me, Lundy, for I know... I always know.

There was a pause. You said there was a proposition?

The cat pupils dilated. It requires the utmost trust, Lundy. I demand unwavering loyalty. You have the knowledge I am seeking.

_Trust. To have confidence or faith in. To allow without fear._

Knowledge... is one of my stronger suits, Tom said, smiling slightly.

Harry trod quietly down hallway of Grimmauld Place, a tea tray magically drifting in front of him. Tonks, who had recently returned alive and well with Bill, had sent him upstairs to deliver the tea and sandwiches to Lupin. The old professor had been in bed all evening; it was nearly the full moon.

called Harry softly, as he reached Lupin's door. There was a soft murmur in reply, which Harry took as an invitation to come in.

Tonks has sent tea, she thought you'd appreciate it, said Harry, pushing the door open.

Lupin was, to put it frankly, a fright. His hair was tousled and more grey than usual. His eyes were sunken and seemed overlarge against his gaunt cheeks. He was propped up against a heap of pillows, and from where Harry stood, he looked very weak and tired.

Er – where do you want this? Harry asked, gesturing toward the steaming cup of tea.

You can bring it here. Despite my appearances, croaked Lupin, I do believe I'm strong enough to hold a tea cup.

Harry smiled, though part of him doubted Lupin's claim.

Will you – er, I mean, you don't look well at all, said Harry, watching the man sip the scalding liquid.

It's a blue moon this time, Harry. It seems to make me very ill, very quickly...

Harry nodded, wanting to say something useful, but his tongue didn't seem to be working properly. He half wanted to leave, let Lupin rest, but something kept him glued to his chair. He felt he was waiting for something.

There was a long pause. Finally, Lupin sighed softly and asked, Any news with the Dursleys?

Nope... Dumbledore doesn't think they're dead though. Maybe they just left the country in hopes of never having to deal with me again, Harry added, smiling slightly.

Lupin smiled back, but it was forced. There was another pause, then Lupin said quietly, Your aunt is nothing like your mother was, you know.

I know.

Lupin continued. I really don't understand how the two could ever have been related... Lily rarely said a harsh thing toward your aunt, though. She was always very kind to her.

Aunt Petunia would deny that tooth and nail, Harry added, shaking his head. I hardly see them as sisters... and to think I'm related to filth like the Dursleys ... they're not family though. Not in the slightest. But even as Harry said this aloud, he remembered what Dumbledore had said – as long as he could call Privet Drive home he would be protected there.

Lupin smiled. The Weasley's seem to fill that void...

Harry grinned back, his face warming slightly. They do.

Lupin sat up a little more, a sparkle in his eyes. I hear Ginny Weasley plays a mean game of chess.

Harry's eyes widened. How'd you know about that?

She came to visit yesterday. Says she beat you seven times, Lupin chuckled. Harry felt a smile creep onto his face too; it was good to see the professor laugh.

She didn't tell you I beat her a few times?

Oh, you mean the two games where you switched the pieces when you thought she wasn't looking...

Shut up.

The two laughed, falling into companionable silence.

Do you want more tea? asked Harry.

No thank you. Tonks has been filling me up on it ever since she returned and I'm getting quite tired of having to use the toilet every ten minutes.

Harry laughed. No worse than Madame Pomfrey, I suppose. At least you're allowed visitors.

She was at Hogwarts in my day... I remember when your dad had fallen off his broom in fifth year and twisted his ankle. Madame Pomfrey kept him in the infirmary for a week and only allowed Sirius to visit for five minutes.

At the mention of Sirius, Harry stiffened slightly, but Lupin continued to speak as if nothing happened.

Sirius eventually got annoyed one night and borrowed Jame's invisibility cloak. They went sneaking around the school, and not even I'm sure of what went on. But at breakfast the next morning Snape's hair was pink.

Lupin pushed the tea trey away as Harry laughed. There was a knock at the door.

Come in, both Lupin and Harry called.

It was Hermione. She looked strained and her voice was tight. Harry, I've asked the Order to lock Kreacher in the attic. They agreed. I mean – well, I don't like it much... but at least he's safe up there, right?

The whole atmosphere in the room instantly changed. The friendly talk and smiles were gone, only to be replaced by something harsh, something fowl. Harry felt an odd pressure in his chest.

I don't want him safe, Hermione. He stood. I should be going, Professor. Goodbye.

He strode swiftly out of the room, ignoring Hermione's slightly annoyed expression and Lupin's tired one. When he reached his bedroom, however, it was only to find Ron lounging on his bed, eating Chocolate Frogs.

Hey mate – Hermione was looking - 

I know. Where is everyone?

Well, Ginny's in her room, I think. Most of the Order is scattered through out the house. They've been coming and going all day... hey, you all right, Harry?

Harry sank onto his own bed, feeling suddenly very childish for storming out on Professor Lupin like that. And Hermione... well, she was only trying to help.

Yeah... yeah, I'm fine, he said, glancing at the pile of Chocolate Frogs. Think I could have one of those?

Harry sat for a minute, chewing the milk chocolate. Things had been so different lately. _Ever since Sirius died, _Harry thought, and a his stomach clenched painfully. He almost felt guilty – there had been many moments in the past week where Harry had gone completely without thinking of Sirius. Why did it have to be that way? Why was it that _thinking_ of Sirius was just as painful as _not_ thinking of him? Was it always going to be like this? Was he going to live the rest of his life in constant misery, his mind always dwelling on the dead?

_The rest of his life._ Harry swallowed his chocolate, thinking. With the recent knowledge of what the prophecy contained, there would be 'no rest of his life'.

Glancing down at the Chocolate Frog card in his hand, Harry struggled hard not to choke on the remaining chocolate. 

Ron's eyes were closed at he was sprawled on his bed.

Have you seen this? demanded Harry, raising the card in front of Ron's face.

What are you on about? Ron opened his eyes, then drew in a sharp breath. It's _you!_

Harry rolled his eyes. Thanks, Ron. I wasn't sure if it was me on this card or my evil twin.

Give it here! Ron looked amused, and snatched the card from Harry's hand.

_Harry Potter is one of the most - _Ron laughed, reading from the back of the card.

Ron, don't, Harry said, making a grab for it.

Just a minute! _Harry Potter is one of the most well known wizards of our time, and is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Lord when he was only a small child. Now, at age sixteen, Harry Potter has much more going for him – not to mention his _fetching good looks? Ron snorted, I dunno Harry. Whoever wrote this was way off – maybe you should ask for a reprint.

Shut up, Ron! Harry said, half laughing, as he dove for the card in Ron's hand. The two wrestled for a fair few minutes, until they heard a giggle at the door.

Not interrupting anything, am I? Ginny asked, her arms folded. She leaned against the door frame.

Harry shouted, at the exact same time Ron shouted, Come see, Gin!

Ron – come on, do you have any idea how embarrassing that thing is? Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.

_Oh_ yeah. That's why I'm showing Ginny.

What is it? asked Ginny.

A Chocolate Frog card of Harry, written by one of his fan girls, Ron laughed, tossing the card to Ginny.

I don't have fan girls!said Harry crossly.

Sure you do Harry, just look at Gin here, said Ron, slinging an arm around his sister.

Ginny glared at him. I'm not a _fan girl._ You know perfectly well I discontinued the club – it was becoming too much to handle.

It took Harry a moment to realize she was joking. You shouldn't say stuff like that Ginny! I though you were serious - 

But the conversation suddenly broke off as several voices rose from downstairs.

Do you have any idea how foolish it was to bring him here, Albus? They heard Moody bark. He could be one of them - 

Alastor, I would appreciate - 

Does Remus know yet?

How can he – he's upstairs - 

He's not trustworthy, I'm telling you - 

There was a pause. Harry looked around at Ginny and Ron, then muttered, Come on.

They crept down the stairs, until they came to the kitchen door.

I will never understand why, they heard Snape's silken voice say, you lot cannot trust a man's word, especially when it comes from a skilled Legilimens such as myself! The man tells no lies, and nor do I.

Well forgive me if it's a little hard to believe the word of a former Death Eater, Snape, Moody's voice shot out.

Gentlemen, please! We do not have time for such trivialities. There was a pause. Harry, please come in.

Harry jumped, as did Ron and Ginny. Somewhat sheepishly, Harry pushed the kitchen door open.

It seemed most of the Order was packed into the room; there were many people Harry didn't recognize. One woman near to him nodded, while others merely gave appraising or searching glances.

Headmaster, I hardly think that underage students - started Snape, but Dumbledore held up a hand and Snape fell silent.

Harry, I must ask you, have you had any dreams lately? Any visions? The man's blue gaze sank deep into Harry's.

Well, er - Harry knew he shouldn't lie, Dumbledore would be able to tell straight away. I... there was one dream – I couldn't get it to stay in the Dream Arrest. I don't think it had anything to do with Voldemort though.

Most of the people in the room flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name, but Dumbledore continued.

If you would, Harry, describe the dream? It is of the utmost importance.

I - A hot flush made it's way across his cheeks as he felt every eye in the room watching him. It had been a very personal dream... I was in – in the Department of Mysteries again, he struggled to keep his voice level. In the room... with the veil. I was just, er, standing there in front of it, listening – I could hear something. Whispers, I think. And I wanted to hear them better. So I – I stepped through the veil.

Everyone in the room stared at him, some with there mouths slightly open. Harry felt stupid. Uh, that's where it ended, he finished lamely, not feeling the need to describe to the room just how frightening the dream had been.

I see, and it wouldn't stay in the Dream Arrest? Dumbledore asked.

No, sir.

I see, Dumbledore said again, sighing. Harry watched him and for the second time that week, noticed how old the professor looked.

Professor, what is this all about? Harry asked. Dumbledore did not answer him, or meet his eyes.

We will send group to investigate Mr. Lundy's claims, he said finally.

There were many different reactions to this statement. Moody started arguing again, Tonks looked apprehensive. Snape looked smug. Most of the group, however, appeared determined.

Who will we send? Mr. Weasley asked.

Not Bill or Tonks again, Ginny interjected, her eyes flashing.

Dumbledore selected all of the Aurors in the room, and much to Ginny's relief, it didn't include Tonks. As the group was leaving, Harry noticed a man stand up with them, and make his way to the door. Moody glared heavily at him and walked out the kitchen.

The man was peaky in appearance, with tweed robes and mussed dark brown hair. He looked very familiar...

Ginny, Harry, Ron – you all should be in bed. I want you upstairs now, no arguing, Molly said, brushing past them to straighten the chairs.

But mum, we want to know - Ron said, but Tonks cut him off.

It's really nothing. That man, Lundy, says he was approached by the Death Eaters and was asked to meet them somewhere. He's on our side. The Order's going to go check out the place.

Mrs. Weasley looked furiously at Tonks for a moment, then flicked her wand angrily at a pile of dirty dishes.

But why did that man look so familiar? Lundy? asked Harry.

He was at St. Mungo's the same time I was, Harry, Mr. Weasley said, wiping his glasses. He was the man who was bit by a werewolf. He was also supposed to meet Lupin the other night.

Before Harry had a chance to ask how they really knew he hadn't been the see the Death Eaters, Mrs. Weasley had shooed them all upstairs.

Where's Hermione? Ron asked.

Still with Lupin, I suppose, answered Harry. He rubbed his scar absentmindedly, he thought he'd just felt it twinge...

I'm going to go talk to her. You coming, Harry? asked Ron.

Er – no. I'm tired, should get some sleep, Harry muttered, but the truth was he suddenly didn't feel like being around Ron and Hermione.

All right. Ron sent him one last worried glance before striding up a further flight of steps to Lupin's room.

Do you think Lundy's a Death Eater?

Harry turned. He'd forgotten Ginny was behind them. Maybe... But Snape's really good at Legilimancy, he'd be able to tell.

Ginny grimaced. Snape's such a git.

Yeah, no kidding.

There was a somewhat awkward silence.

Well, er, I should go to bed... long day, and all, said Harry.

Yeah, me too, Ginny nodded.

There was another pause.

'Night then, Harry said, feeling stupid.

Yeah, goodnight, Harry. Ginny paused, looking like she wanted to say something more, but then suddenly turned and bounded up the stairs.

_Well... that was different. _Harry thought, sinking into his bed at long last.

The minute he closed his eyes, the dream started.

It was dark, Harry could barely see two feet in front of him. There was a odd stench in the sir, something Harry couldn't quite place. Like decay and stale water...

There were voices around him, low mutters and then suddenly, the room was glaringly bright. A dozen wand tips had gone aglow, casting long shadows on what Harry now realized wasn't a room, but a cave.

But the oddest thing of all was the statues. There were women with stationary skirts and frozen faces; children, forever petrified in playing games of hopscotch or jacks. Men lined the walls, undaunted and stiff. All of them frozen, all of them dead.

Then one lone, terror-stricken voice called out to the others. I don't believe it – would you look at that! I recognize these people, I know every one of these people!

There were cries of recognition all around the room, cries of horror, and cries of astonishment.

Is this where they wanted to meet you, Lundy? I don't understand – is this some kind of joke? an Auror called out.

Quite a sick joke, if you ask me, Moody replied. He was standing in front of the frozen form of a very tall man, with shaggy dark hair. This here is Caradoc Dearborn. Vanished six months after the Order was formed, remember?

Then Harry woke up.


End file.
